very young have, properly speaking, no moments. It is the privilege
of early youth to live in advance of its days in all the beautiful
continuity of hope which knows no pauses and no introspection.

One closes behind one the little gate of mere boyishness--and enters an
enchanted garden. Its very shades glow with promise. Every turn of
the path has its seduction. And it isn't because it is an undiscovered
country. One knows well enough that all mankind had streamed that
way. It is the charm of universal experience from which one expects an
uncommon or personal sensation--a bit of one's own.

One goes on recognizing the landmarks of the predecessors, excited,
amused, taking the hard luck and the good luck together--the kicks and
the half-pence, as the saying is--the picturesque common lot that holds
so many possibilities for the deserving or perhaps for the lucky. Yes.
One goes on. And the time, too, goes on--till one perceives ahead a
shadow-line warning one that the region of early youth, too, must be
left behind.

This is the period of life in which such moments of which I have spoken
are likely to come. What moments? Why, the moments of boredom, of
weariness, of dissatisfaction. Rash moments. I mean moments when the
still young are inclined to commit rash actions, such as getting married
suddenly or else throwing up a job for no reason.

This is not a marriage story. It wasn't so bad as that with me. My
action, rash as it was, had more the character of divorce--almost of
desertion. For no reason on which a sensible person could put a finger I
threw up my job--chucked my berth--left the ship of which the worst that
could be said was that she was a steamship and therefore, perhaps, not